Often I find odd coincidences gather round me, invisible imps that perch on my shoulder whispering of dark conspiracies, secret organizations, the malicious internet bots that harvest my inner soul. Even the red lava lamp on my desk offers up heart stopping visions of some hellish landscape of the damned. Then they dissipate and I buy something, mention it to my wife and move on. This coincidence centred on an author named John Linwood Grant.
As anyone who has followed this blog could guess I would have found the cover for Cthulhusattva above by Alix Branwyn almost irresistible regardless of the contents. And while I was ruminating on the purchase, I noticed a second anthology also edited by Scott R. Jones, Chthonic Weird Tales of Inner Earth.
I used the look inside feature and found Jones introduction to the work, a description of his reaction to a cave tour quite engaging. Then I continued, reading the first story in the collection, "Where All Is Night, And Starless".
I loved the story, Miss Allen is purchasing an old farmhouse on one of the Western Isles of Scotland, for herself and her father, a veteran of the World War I who is suffering from shell shock. It is an isolated spot, the house perched upon an outcropping of granite gneiss, a fact that reassures her father. After waiting through the two years of her father's recuperation, it is here that she hopes he will finally confide the true nature of his experiences. And he does. Lieutenant Robert Allen of the 183rd Tunnelling Company had been commanding a group of sappers tasked with tunnelling beneath the German lines to plant explosives. One of the many risks associated with this strategy is encountering Germans tunnelling towards them. And despite the fact that they have been assured that they are far deeper than any possible German advance, they do detect the sound of digging. Soon Allen's command encounters not just vast caverns but enemy soldiers, or are they? I really enjoyed this story, it presented a fresh approach, it was nicely atmospheric and suspenseful and really engaged my interest. So I ordered both books and awaited the barking dogs that would herald the arrival of my package. I have to admit I did not ever notice the name of the author.
It was while awaiting my books that I read Grady Hendrix's post on Tor.com on " The Terrible Detectives of the Victorian Era."
https://www.tor.com/2018/11/30/the-terrible-occult-detectives-of-the-victorian-era/
I have to admit a real fondness for the intrepid sleuths who protect us from vampires, mummies, ghostly hogs, and every possible manifestation of the unhappy dead. The exploits of John Silence, John Thunstone, Thomas Carnacki , Jules de Grandin, Lucius Leffing, Mile Pennoyer, Prince Zaleski, Cummings King Monk and Aylmer Vance among others form a significant part of my library. It was in the comments section I found the link to a really fun tribute to occult detectives by John Linwood Grant. I really enjoyed Grant's blog. It took me quite some time to figure out Grant was also the author of "Where All Is Night, And Starless" He also likes dogs.
http://greydogtales.com/blog/the-singe-of-four-a-case-of-peculiar-detectives/#respond
Not all the stories in these anthologies are new, we have HPL's classic "The Rats in the Walls", and Ruthann Emrys excellent "The Litany of Earth", which I discussed here,
http://dunwichhorrors.blogspot.com/2016/10/the-litany-of-earth-by-ruthann-emrys.html
I found Jones comments below, (to paraphrase) that he had gotten tired of some manifestations of the mythos struck a chord with me as well. I am hoping that a different editor might bring a different perspective on Lovecraft's theme of cosmic horror and I am certainly looking forward to Grant's story in Cthulhusattva.
From the introduction:
"At some point (don’t ask me when it was, exactly, or what triggered the change) I just got tired. A profound enervation settled upon me, dank and heavy and dull. I mean, I had been at the game a while. Not as long as the Joshis or the Prices and the rest for whom the old-school colours of a Miskatonic U tie still hold heart-stirring meaning, mind you, but still, long enough. So, perhaps it was to be expected, this weariness. In the bones. A cloying, slightly greasy fog of exhaustion that clogged my frontal lobes whenever the Name was mentioned...
Yes, I was tired of Lovecraft.
And unlike, say, London, when one is tired of Lovecraft one is not tired of life. Not really. You’re not even tired of weird fiction. Or horror. Or even (dare I say it?) the Cthulhu Mythos. For there is still great, interesting, and engaging work being done within those (admittedly arbitrary) borders."
Cover by Lucas Korte
from the introduction:
"The cavern mouth awaits, as does the cistern with hidden depths, the tunnel that twists and writhes, the abyssal space that hums with unknown activity. Note the faint glow to the walls as you descend: mere phosphorescent fungi... or something more peculiar? There is a sound of rushing water that you can’t place, and the suggestion of drums and strange flutes in the deep. The rock vibrates beneath the soles of your feet, and your headlamp flickers, fails. But then, you knew it would, eventually. This place is not for you, but here you are.
Welcome to CHTHONIC."
Scott R Jones
2 February 2018
Victoria, BC
